


Happy Birthday, Baby

by celli



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Birthday, Gen, Strippers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-04-29
Updated: 2006-04-29
Packaged: 2017-10-22 18:01:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/240951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/celli/pseuds/celli
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is a stripper. ...no, really. That's the entire plot. Dean. Stripper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Birthday, Baby

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to [](http://svmadelyn.livejournal.com/profile)[**svmadelyn**](http://svmadelyn.livejournal.com/) for the original idea and [](http://deannie.livejournal.com/profile)[**deannie**](http://deannie.livejournal.com/) for the beta. The title, in addition to being frightfully obvious, is from the [Lowen & Navarro](http://lownav.com/) song.

JJ looked across the table at her friends. Lexie gave her a smile of wide-eyed innocence, while Joy made a show of busily flagging down the waiter.

"This is your big plan for my birthday? A strip club?"

Lexie nodded.

"Why?"

"Naked men and beer," Lexie and Joy said in unison.

JJ rolled her eyes. "I have a DVD player and a refrigerator at home."

"Yes, but this is better," Joy insisted.

After the first three strippers, JJ leaned over to Joy. "How does beer breath and strange men dripping sweat on you equal better?"

Joy just grabbed her arm and pointed.

"Oh, my God," Lexie breathed.

He was--no probablies, possiblies, or perhapses--the most gorgeous man JJ had ever seen in her life. Dark, dark hair, close-cropped, with matching stubble. Broad shoulders and narrow hips. And he just radiated attitude. Something heavy and pounding started to play, and he pulled off the jacket of his fatigues to show a couple miles of golden skin, and--JJ forgot to breathe--a thigh holster.

"You know, we're objectifying him as a sexual object," some last smidgen of conscience prompted her to say.

"I'm sure trying," Joy muttered.

Lexie just said, "Oh, my God," again.

He didn't really dance, but then, as long as he kept doing that with his hips, JJ was willing to call it dancing. He made the obligatory pass around the pole, which drew hoots and cheers from the audience. He paused for a second, staring towards the back of the room, but then seemed to remember he was working for a living and did another turn around the pole. When he finished, he was looking straight at JJ, giving her an open-mouthed grin that had Joy squeezing JJ's arm even harder.

Then he unhooked the thigh holster and slowly, very slowly, stripped the pants down his legs.

This was the best birthday ever.

He made his lazy way around the room, stopping to let several women tuck several dollars in his G-string. JJ froze when he approached the table next to theirs. She stared straight down at her beer bottle. She actually jumped a little when a deep voice drawled in her ear. "I hear it's your birthday, miss."

JJ turned big eyes to Joy, who was nodding frantically at her.

The soldier--the stripper--the guy--he laughed, and JJ felt metal against her cheek as he turned her chin towards him. "Happy birthday, JJ," he said. He smelled like Old Spice and gunpowder. JJ wished she was the kind of person who propositioned strippers.

When Lexie and Joy squeaked and the stripper started laughing, she realized she'd said it out loud. "I like you!" he said, the puff of emphasis on the word "like" stirring her bangs. He planted a solid, warm kiss full on her mouth, then left.

JJ was still staring after him when the lights went up and the canned intermission music started playing.

"Oh, my God," Lexie said.

"Oh, my God," Joy echoed.

JJ shook her head, hard. "That was--thank you, guys. Whoa. Just, whoa." The other two laughed. "Did you tell the bartender it was my birthday when we came in?"

"I didn't," Lexie said.

Joy shook her head. "Maybe they remembered from the door."

"They didn't card us," Lexie pointed out.

"Who cares how he found out? He kissed you. I can't believe he kissed you."

And the three of them dissolved in giggles.

***

Sam was waiting at the car when Dean came out, holding up a bar napkin with "5.4" written on it.

"The Russian judge wasn't pleased with your dismount, but everyone else loves you."

"Fuck you. Don't think I'm gonna forget this." Dean tossed the uniform jacket in the trunk and slammed into the driver's seat. "And the next time you're publicly humiliating yourself, I'm gonna stand back and make faces at you, too."

"Okay. Now, two questions."

Dean started the car. "No, the EMF meter didn't pick up anything anywhere near her. No ghosts, nothing paranormal at all that I could find. And yes, I checked carefully."

"You know that wasn't the second question, Dean."

Dean sighed. "I'm waiting."

"Where exactly did you *hide* the meter?"

"I hate you," Dean said as the noise of the club faded behind them. "I hate you so much."


End file.
